Family Matters
by oh.look.a.snail
Summary: Alex and Ziva met each other while working for Mossad , but as always with those living the spy life, they never had a chance to become the close friends they could have been. But now, Alex is back, bringing with him a life of chaos and death. Will his return be a blessing in disguise or invasion of turmoil in both their lives? Rated T for subjects and language use.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey, hot stuff." An unnaturally gruff voice called to Ziva from behind her computer. Sure enough, when she looked up from her screen, a smirking Tony met her eyes.

Ziva snorted, getting out of her chair and walking out of her cubicle. "That was scarring Tony," she said, shaking her head in laughter. "If I need to get therapy for that, I'll sue you." She walked to the far wall of the office, starting up a new pot at the coffee station.

Tony leaned back against her desk, practically purring. "Feisty. I like that."

McGee sighed from his seat across from Ziva's desk, lines of exhaustion carved into his face. "Tony, this morning has done terrible things to me." He said, spinning his chair around to face Tony with unfocused eyes. "Don't add 'witness to verbal harassment' to the list."

"What Probie?" asked Tony in an innocent voice. "I'm just showing my love for her. Nothing wrong with that."

McGee sighed again, rubbing his temples before speaking. "Continual unwanted catcalls count. Seriously man, why did NCIS recruit you?"

"Give it up," said Ziva, handing McGee a cup of coffee. "He's a lost cause."

The aforementioned lost cause perked up at the sight of Ziva, sliding off her desk and walking towards her with a massive grin plastered on his face. "Aw, Ziva honey, is that coffee for me?" Tony reached towards her, trying to grab the remaining cup in her hand.

"Hell no," She spun around him, sliding smoothly into her chair with the drink held safely in her grasp.

Tony stared pleadingly at Ziva with his puppy eyes for several seconds before realizing that it was a futile effort. Instead, he walked up to her desk as casually as he could, snatching an old flip phone from on top of a stack of papers before prancing away in joy. "I have your phone now! You have to make me coffee."

"Uh Ziva," started McGee when the other agent ignored Tony. "Shouldn't you get your phone back? You don't know what Tony might do with it…"

Ziva shrugged, putting down her coffee without drinking it and resuming her work. "That one is linked to my old number, so there's nothing he'd want on it. The worst Tony could do is spam photos of his pants."

"Or he could take your calls for you."

Ziva's head snapped up at McGee's words, eyes hurriedly searching for the idiot who had stolen her phone. Tony sat reclining at his desk without a care in the world, speaking lazily to whoever he had just put on speakerphone. "Hello, this is the cellular device of Ms. Ziva David, how may she help?"

"Tony!" Ziva hissed, springing out of her chair and running to his cubicle. "Give it back!" she whispered desperately, holding her hand out in front of her. It was her old number, yes, but what she had failed to mention to McGee was that only four people knew that number. They were the only trustworthy people she had met during her time with Mossad – the people she would risk her life for. But three of them were already dead. The fourth, although alive, was just as unlikely to contact her as the others as he had a stubborn streak that went above and beyond. The fact that he had reached out to her meant that something extremely, extremely bad had happened to him.

Tony, not understanding her panic, only held out her phone farther out of her grasp, raising the phone volume as the man spoke. _"Excuse me, but I must talk to Ziva. Could you please hand her the phone_?" the man spoke in a low, decidedly British voice, his prominent accent distracting Tony enough to allow Ziva to reach over and pluck her phone out of his grasp. She turned off the speakerphone, walking away from their cubicles and towards the windows as she spoke. "Yes, hi Alex, I'm here." She rushed her words out in one breath, her free hand pulling through her hair in her unrest.

_"Ziva? That you?"_

Ziva sighed in relief, glad that nothing had happened to him while she was arguing with Tony. "Yes, it's me. What's wrong Alex, why'd you call?"

A soft chuckle sounded from the other end of the line, instantly making her relax. _"Why? Am I not allowed to call my favourite ex-Mossad agent from time to time? You were the one who told me to treat you like family."_ He joked, poking fun at her harried tone.

She laughed quietly in response. She hoped that he was cracking jokes in because he was well enough to, not in order calm her down for what he would say next. But of course, she hoped wrong. Before she could reply, a wheezing cough sounded from Alex's side along with the sound of several bullets being fired. Ziva bit down on her lip to stay quiet and avoid revealing Alex to whoever was trying to kill him.

_"Shit."_ he spoke in a low whisper, barely audible from her end. _"Ziva, they're ex-SCORPIA. I managed to get put two of them out of action, but I don't know how many others are with them. I need you to track this call and get me out of here. I'll be hiding, so when you get close, identify yourself, alright?"_

She let out the breath she had been holding, whispering back to the boy. "Alright. Alex, just stay on the line for a little while longer, I'll have McGee track you down." She muted the call as she walked over to Tony and McGee, both of whom were staring at her as if she had grown a third head. "What?"

McGee paused, unsure where to start. "Why do I need to track him down?" asked McGee hesitantly, not even attempting to hide the fact that they had been eavesdropping.

"I'll explain that when I get back. For now, just track this call." She rattled off her number to the other agent, tying her hair into a ponytail as she spoke. She kept her phone pressed to her cheek with her shoulder, alert in case the situation on the other side of the call changed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Tony raised both hands in the international stop sign, staring at Ziva as if she was insane. "You're leaving? Without telling Gibbs? Who is this British hotshot?" His voice had a jealous tint to it, one that was not lost on any of the three huddled around McGeek's computer.

Ziva didn't spare him a glance, instead unholstering her gun and making sure it was fully loaded and operational. "An old friend." she answered simply, avoiding his worried glances.

"Seriously," continued Tony, brows creased in concern. "Gibbs is gonna kill you if you go."

"Found him," piped McGee, pointing at a blinking dot on the map on his screen. "He's in the alleyway behind Kerry's Bar."

Ziva nodded her thanks to McGee, grabbing her keys from her desk and running to the stairs instead of waiting for the age old elevator. "The most Gibbs can do is fire me." She called over her shoulder. "If I don't go now, he might actually die." She swung open the door to the fire escape, disappearing down it in a flash.

With perfect timing, Gibbs walked over with a fresh coffee, case file in hand. He stared at the two men whose jaws had dropped at the ex-Mossad agent's sudden exit. "Was that Ziva I just saw sprinting out of here?" he asked, watching as the doors to the stairs swung shut.

"Uh…" Tony gaped like a fish, trying frantically to think of an excuse to save Ziva's hide.

"Family circumstances, sir." McGee cut in. "I'm sure she had her reasons."

Gibbs, unimpressed with the obvious lie, stared at McGee and Tony. "Fine." He ceded, allowing the thin excuse to pass by him once. After all, Ziva was a good agent who rarely caused a fuss. "We'll have to get started without her. McGee, the case please."

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><p><strong>The beginning of a fic I've had on my computer for a while...<strong>

**Anyone I think I should continue this?**


	2. Chapter 2

Initially, Alex had planned on calling the CIA to get them to pick off the group assassins who were tailing him. It was Byrne's decision to pair him with a useless partner for his mission, and it would be his responsibility to take care of the older agent. But when the crew of assassins landed a shot on Alex's arm - one that would've pierced his heart if he hadn't turned instinctively the moment before - he knew that government trained agents would be sitting ducks to their snipers. Alex decided to discontinue the mission for their safety, instead putting on the bulletproof vest that he hated so much, and fleeing.

The two agents had known of several organizations who wanted them dead, but with no way to confirm their thoughts, their only option was to evade the assassins for the sake of their mission. Together, they zigzagged across cities, trying their best to shake the assassins off their trail. After weeks of sneaking around at night and several exchanges of heavy fire, the assassins had lost two men while Alex was now flying solo. Alex had found his temporary partner's body mutilated on the street a few days after they had split up to regroup in another city. A phoenix was branded on the dead man's cheek, the angry red welts staring up at Alex with a wordless warning, the assassins identifying themselves at last.

The bird was the poster-boy for rebirth, of the new rising from the ashes of something great, of a continued life of a legend. But in this case, the bird signified something infinitely less beautiful. PHOENIX quite literally rose from the ashes of SCORPIA, when MI6 agents failed to check to ensure that everyone inside the final SCORPIA building had truly died, and a low level tech agent managed to crawl out from the rubble and get discovered by passing civilians. Luka Gavrilovic received emergency medical treatment and stayed in hospital for two days before being taken away by MI6. However, within those two days, a woman visited him. Zuelia Gavrilovic was the sister of the low level SCORPIA agent and the head of a minor gang. But she had not visited him to say goodbye. She knew her brother well, and she knew that he would not have fled the building before taking some valuable information with him. Walking straight past his hospital room, she headed straight for the personal belongings he had with him when he was found; a bundle of burnt clothing and a large leather journal.

The final head of SCORPIA, Zeljan Kurst, was a paranoid man who avoided using technology in any way possible, instead putting pen to paper when creating his devious plans. He was so convinced that others were spying on him that he never threw his journals away, instead hiding some and burning others to throw away the ashes. In the chaos before the MI6 arrived, Luka had managed to steal an old journal of Kurst's, one that detailed how he managed his initial rise to power as well as the inner hierarchy of SCORPIA. Without waiting for her brother's death, Zuelia put the notebook to good use, soon transforming her gang into a major terrorist organization and renaming it PHOENIX, as a last token of appreciation to SCORPIA's efforts.

PHOENIX was also the reason Alex had returned to the espionage scene. Life in America had been boring, but safe, with no criminals daring to approach him after the downfall of SCORPIA. He lived his high school life plainly; skipping PE classes to avoid the change room, studying hard instead to keep his GPA up, sharing few words with anyone other than the Pleasures. Sports were also no longer an option, and having broken up with Sabrina soon after moving in with the Pleasures, there was no longer anything particularly interesting in his life. He had no reason to return to the UK or stay in the US, until Mrs. Jones called him after three years of silence, requesting his help in dealing with a new terrorist group named PHOENIX. Edward Pleasure had caused quite a scene at their house in San Francisco when he found out about the call, threatening to publish an article about the Riders on his blog and reveal everything to the public. When he calmed down enough for a rational conversation, Alex explained that civilian life hadn't worked out for him and he would be moving back to Britain to join forces with MI6 again. Unsurprisingly, the Pleasures expressed their extreme disapproval, but nothing could stop him from boarding a plane weeks after graduation, leaving a trail of apologies and tears behind him.

After completing the forms to become a MI6 agent, he and Mrs. Jones worked day and night to gather information on the mystery organization that had sprouted overnight. He went through the necessary refresher courses, easily settling back into the rhythm of being a spy. The joint mission with the CIA was not his first mission back, but it was the first physical encounter he had with PHOENIX. The brutal murder of Alex's partner did nothing to scare him off, but instead filled him with a sense of purpose and exhilaration.

He moved more quickly and quietly than he had when he had to babysit his partner, vowing to uncover more about the unknown agency and return alive. But the assassins seemed to be playing a twisted game, letting the agent flee for days at a time before shooting without warning, "accidently" missing him every time. It was a real life version of cat and mouse, and Alex was the only one worse for wear.

He knew he needed backup.

Alex was aware Ziva had finally found a home in Washington, so he had wanted to avoid calling her. But he had been driven into a corner, and she was the only other one nearby whose skill rivaled that of the PHOENIX assassins. So he hurried out onto the streets, disguised as another tourist touring the nation's capital. Alex pickpocketed an old grandmother while waiting for a crosswalk, sliding her phone out of her jacket pocket and into his own. He ducked into a nearby alleyway before checking that it was an older, password-less model as he had hoped. He flipped the phone open and dialed a number he had memorized years ago, fingers crossed she had kept the phone. Alex had been mildly amused by the argument on the other end of the call but was soon distracted by spray of bullets hitting the wall behind him, one scraping his left shoulder.

"Shit," he swore aloud, cutting off the reply on the other end of the call. He dove to the ground immediately, launching himself behind a stack of cardboard boxes for cover. He tucked the phone between his uninjured shoulder and his ear, slipping a gun out of the waistband of his pants and quickly returning fire, trying to avoid injuring his shoulder any further. "Ziva, they're ex-SCORPIA. I managed to get put two of them out of action a while back, but I don't know how many others are with them. I need you to track this call and get me out of here. I'll be hiding, so when you get close, identify yourself, alright?" He turned the volume down on the phone without waiting for a response, sprinting further down the alley to look for cover. He ducked under a large overhang, hidden from anyone who could be watching from the rooftops, pausing before crouching behind a dumpster and raising the phone to his ear again.

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><p><em> "Alex? Everything still okay?<em>

Ziva was not the safest driver at the best of times, and having the life of a good friend hinging on her speed did nothing to help things. She sprinted down the stairs and exited the building, wordlessly slipping into her car before speeding off the curb with a fanfare of tire squeals and engine rumbles.

"Alex?" She set the phone on speaker and tossed it lightly into the empty seat beside her. "Everything still okay?"

After a heart-stopping moment of silence, a ragged chuckle came from the other side. _"Ah, don't make me laugh, Ziva. I think I may have a cracked rib."_

The NCIS agent curved hard around a corner, other cars honking profanities at her. "You think you'll need an ambulance?" she asked through gritted teeth, swerving narrowly between cars as she continued to speed up. "I can call one right now."

A click of metal against metal sounded from her phone, followed by the distinctive sound of a gun being reloaded. _"I'm fine, thanks. I think a first aid kit would do me good though."_ Gunshots rang through the other end of the call, sounding distorted through the dated speaker on her phone.

Ziva pressed the accelerator parallel to the ground, whipping past quiet neighbourhoods and quickly approaching the bar where Alex had hidden. "Give me two minutes. I'll be there."


	3. Chapter 3

**due to the fact that i am me, i do not own anything below except for parts of the plot.**

**hope you enjoy!**

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><p>Ziva pressed her palm hard against her horn, honking loudly at the taxi cab parked illegally by the bar. Although she was normally a big enthusiast of the designated driver program, it was mildly irritating to watch a drunken couple slowly meander across the street, perfectly blocking the entrance to the alleyway where her ex-partner was being hunted.<p>

"Move, dammit." Ziva cussed under her breath, waving an angry finger in the air at them. The two tottered into the cab, waving an apologetic hand in her direction as they pulled onto the street. Ziva smoothly slid into their spot, slipping her gun out of her glove compartment and grabbing her phone from the seat beside her. She switched it off speakerphone, pressing it to her ear with her shoulder as she checked her gun to ensure it was in working order. "I'm here Alex. What do you need me to do?"

A soft exhale sounded from the other end. _"Are you in the black Dodge Charger?"_

Ziva flicked the safety off her gun, carefully holding it away from herself and any explosive areas of her car. "Yeah. Do you want to make a run for it, or should I drive in and get you out of there?"

_"Just be ready to open your door for me._"

As soon as the words sounded from Ziva's phone, a black shadow detached itself from the side of a dumpster in the alley. It sprinted towards her car, a spray of bullets following suit. "Shit," Ziva swore, dropping her phone in her haste to open the door for Alex. "Get in!" she yelled, aiming her gun past his head and firing repeatedly. Alex jumped into the car, quickly swinging the door shut behind him. Ziva slammed down on the gas pedal, screeching away from the bar and skidding into the road.

Alex pulled his gun from his pocket and turned in his seat to face backwards, moving slowly to avoid worsening his injury. "Thanks for that Ziva," he said. "Couldn't have made it out without you." He flashed a grin at her and winked, gun trained at the alley they had just left.

Ziva only scoffed, sparing a glance at him to inspect his injuries before twisting the steering wheel and narrowly avoiding on-coming traffic. "There's a medical kit in the glove compartment in front of you. Try to treat anything life-threatening while I get us to HQ."

Alex cocked an eyebrow at the Mossad agent. "Who said I'd go to HQ?"

"I did," Said Ziva, eyes flitting to her rear-view mirror. "The safest place in this entire city is HQ."

"It's also the most obvious place to hide."

"We have trusted armed agents who obey orders, proper medical supplies, and doctors who can check you out without questioning anything." She swerved around a corner, clipping the side of a family van as she did so. Ignoring the angry honks coming from the other car, she sped forward. "If those shooters back there made you ask for help, they're pretty damn good agents and we won't be able to hide you. At least this way, you're actually protected."

Alex huffed from the seat beside her, finally turning around and slipping the safety back on his gun. "I'm MI6. I shouldn't be in NCIS buildings; that's just weird."

At his words, Ziva cracked a small smile. "You were a teen spy Alex. I don't think you ever fit the mould well."

"McGee, the case."

McGee's fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up two pictures. One was a headshot of a blue eyed, black haired marine standing proudly in front of the Union Jack. The second was of the same man, except bleeding and tied to a chair with a gun held to his head.

"Some warning would've been nice, Probie," said Tony, bringing his hand up to shield the graphic image from his view.

"Sorry." McGee minimized the photo, raising his brows at his coworkers' exaggerated response. "Well, I haven't been able to figure out much. This," he said, gesturing at the headshot displayed on the TV above him, "is Petty Officer Tom Harris. He's currently being held hostage by an unknown group at an unknown location, until they are given the opportunity to deal with the president." He lifted his eyes from the screen, looking incredulously at his teammates. "I repeat, with the president."

The older man merely sighed, gripping his coffee tightly. "McGee, please tell me that you've found out more than that. For starters, why don't you explain why we're dealing with a Brit?"

A blush rose to his cheeks as he quickly stammered out a reply. "No, boss, he's actually not in the British army anymore. He immigrated here after serving for two years in Britain, and started working in the navy soon after. He's also the only son of Joyce Harris, the new Speaker of House. "

"Better. Anything on the ones who took Harris hostage?"

"They're called PHOENIX." Director Vance interrupted, stepping into their bullpen. "Hope you don't mind if I join you all for a bit."

"Not at all Director." Tony smiled, showing his pearly whites in what he hoped was a charming manner. "Would you like a seat?"

The Director stared at him with distaste, responding simply. "Let's focus on the case, shall we?" He shifted his gaze towards Gibbs before continuing in a more sombre tone. "Phoenix is a relatively new group, but they're already a force to be reckoned with. They've taken credit for multiple attempts at terrorist attacks, all of which were very close calls."

Tony scoffed loudly, crossing his arms arrogantly. "And yet, here they are, begging us for a meet and greet with Mr. President. Do they want signed photos too?"

Vance sighed, looking with chagrin at Tony. "There's more to the problem. You've been called in because of Officer Harris, but he's just a part of the backup plan. There's several others being held hostage, and to top it off, they're threatening us with internal information."

"Which means…?" Gibbs raised his brows, prompting the director to continue.

"We have a mole in the system." Vance grimaced, staring hard at Gibbs. "Several, judging by the information they've been able to get. If they don't get their 'meet and greet' as Tony eloquently put it, all of our secrets will be revealed to the public."

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><p><strong>AN: hey guys! sorry it takes me like half a year to update... I know things are slow, but I (probably) won't give this story up! please bear with me and my ultra slow updates... thank you for all your comments and likes and stuff, and all constructive criticism is welcome! (unless its about how freaking slow I am at uploading new chapters... real sorry... I've been really busy lately and it doesn't seem like summer will be any better D:)  
><strong>

**For those of you at school, hope everyone had a fantastic end of school year (unless you're taking summer school - in that case, good luck!)**

**For those of you who work... good luck. **

**reviews and the like are much appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: so uh, hey guys! **

**it's been a while, hasn't it?**

**i've discovered the wonderful joy that is sat... it's summer break but I swear, it doesn't feel like it. **

**I changed some little details in the previous chapters, nothing major, but feel free to check them out! **

**I copied parts of ducky's story from an actual episode of NCIS that was on when I was writing this, so everything but that, the characters, the setting, (so basically just the plot) is mine!**

**i also made a 007 reference this chapter ahaha**

**see if you can find it! virtual high five and mention to whoever does :D**

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><p>"So then what happened, Dr. Mallard?" asked Jimmy. The two medical examiners had finished cleaning up the autopsy room, and were now seated at a coffee table sharing stories.<p>

Ducky sipped his coffee before replying. "It was quite brilliant. Actually I almost missed it." He leaned in close, as if divulging a great secret to the younger man. "But, while I was examining the embalming incision, I discovered that the carotid artery showed absolutely no sign of decay. You see, it reminded me of a similar case in West Germany, where-" A loud ding sounded from the direction of the elevator, cutting Ducky off mid speech.

Jimmy stood up, surprised. "We didn't have something to do for Gibbs, did we?"

Ducky only shrugged, peering at the opening elevator doors.

Ziva exited the elevator, followed by a tall, handsome brunette. The two medical examiners quickly exchanged a look. As far as the duo was aware, Ziva had few friends outside of work, and had never introduced them to her work family before.

The older man was the first to react, English accent even more prominent in his shock. "Hello Ziva, pleasure to have you visit us. I do believe this is the first time I've met your companion. I'm Doctor Mallard, but feel free to call me Ducky." He held out his hand for a shake, grinning. "Nice to meet you, Mister …?"

"Rider. Alex Rider." The man grasped the doctor's hand firmly, giving a polite smile.

Jimmy paused momentarily, taken aback by his British accent. He walked up beside Ducky, shaking Alex's hand as well. "I'm Jimmy Palmer. Dr. Mallard's assistant."

"Ducky, we need your medical expertise." She spoke restlessly, pushing Alex into the chair Jimmy had occupied moments prior.

The medical examiner finally caught sight of the white bandages wrapped around the man's shoulder, which were quickly staining a deep red. Ducky hurriedly pulled on a pair of gloves, gingerly peeling the material off his shoulder. "I must say, I might not be qualified to treat your injury. It would be better to take you to the hospital."

Ziva huffed anxiously. "Please, Ducky. The hospital isn't an option."

"Oh dear," grumbled Ducky, unhappy but complacent. "I'll see what I can do."

Jimmy rushed over with a large medical kit, placing it on the table beside the coffee mug. "Ouch," he sympathized, catching sight of the bloody mess on the other man's shoulder. "How'd you manage to do that?"

"Long story," interrupted Ziva. "I'll explain later."

Ducky reached into the kit and pulled out some gauze, dabbing lightly at the blood pooling around the injury. He inspected it carefully before letting out a relieved sigh. "Thankfully, it looks as if it's just a superficial wound." He took out a roll bandages and tape, quickly working to stem the blood flow. He wrapped the material tightly around the wound, sending apologetic glances at the other man when he hissed in pain. "I'm sorry, Mr. Rider, but it is best to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible." He set the bandage with tape before standing up. "All done, sir. If I may, I suggest you go to the hospital or pharmacy and get some antibiotics or painkillers prescribed. It will do you good. "

Alex leaning in his seat, inspecting his shoulder with ginger touches as he spoke. "I'll be alright Doctor. Thanks for your help."

Ziva nodded in thanks at the two medical examiners, before helping Alex up and walking towards the elevator. "Oh, and Ducky? Jimmy?" she called, pressing the elevator button as she spoke.

"Yes..?" responded Jimmy hesitantly.

"Let's keep this between us."

The elevator arrived with a loud ding, opening its doors to allow the two in again. Ziva followed Alex into the elevator, letting the doors close without waiting for a reply from the two examiners. They stood in stunned silence for several moments before Ducky sighed, peeling off his gloves and throwing them away.

"Now… Where was I Mr. Palmer?"

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><p>As soon as the elevator doors closed, Alex dropped his tense shoulders. He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head.<p>

"What?" asked Ziva.

"So that's how you're going to keep my identity a secret? _"I'll tell you later?"_" Alex flashed a teasing grin at the ex-Mossad agent.

"Well," started Ziva, crossing her arms. "It worked, didn't it? They didn't ask any questions."

The spy only shrugged a small smile still on his face. "You know, as long as they sign the OSA, you can tell them everything."

The NCIS peered at the man standing beside her. "You weren't this trusting before."

Alex laughed again, staring at the numbers floors flicking by on the elevator display. "They're in your team. I trust you, and you trust them, so in my book, they're trustworthy."

"My team, eh?" Ziva cocked a brow at Alex as the elevator bell rang again, alerting the floor of their arrival. She smiled to herself as the elevator doors opened, and stepped into the bullpen. Seeing Director Vance beside Gibbs and the rest of her team, Ziva quickly spoke up. "I'll give them the bare minimum for now, so just stay quiet."

"Oh, no fucking way." Alex jogged ahead of Ziva, directly towards the where the small group of agents had gathered in front of the monitor. Gibbs was already staring judgementally at the two, asking Ziva questions only with his raised eyebrows.

"What are you doing!" whispered Ziva, startled by Alex's actions. She reached for his wrist in order to stop the spy from prancing into the group of agents, but missed, instead left to stare with a gaping mouth as he approached the director confidently.

"Leon!" Alex called, loud enough to get the attention of everyone gathered in front of the monitor. "Leon Vance!"

The director turned towards the sound of Alex's voice, mildly offended at the less than respectful way he was addressed. However, the instant he set his eyes on the grinning spy, his anger lines dropped from his face and a grin slowly formed on his face. "Rider?"

Alex came to a stop in front of the director, who pulled in the younger man for a friendly hug. The spy patted him on the back before pulling away to study the other man's face. "God, Leon. You look even older than you did before." Alex joked good naturedly, punching the director lightly in the shoulder as he spoke.

Vance, to the shock of everyone watching, laughed jovially and tousled the head of the man standing in front of him. "Same goes for you, my boy. They would have been proud of how you've grown."

Tony, as was everyone else watching, stared open mouthed at the scene in front of them. He slid closer to Gibbs, whispering in his ear. "I think that's the first time I've seen the director smile this year. Or ever, for that matter." Gibbs smacked him upside the head, but said nothing in response.

"You know what Tony?" said Ziva, who had silently come to stand with her team. "I'm with you on that one. This has to be one of the strangest things I've ever seen."

"Shit," swore Tony, shocked by her sudden presence. "Uh, how'd your family thing go?" He jerked his head at Gibbs, mouthing the word 'excuse' in case she didn't understand what he was doing.

The female agent sighed, crossing her arms and pointing at the man standing in front of the smiling director. "You're looking at it."

Like moths to a lamp, the three agents slowly looked towards at the director's friend, scrutinizing him with new eyes. He was tall, tan, and lightly muscled. Colorful tattoos weaved their way around his arms, occasionally disappearing into an outfit made of a dark wife beater, black jeans, and sneakers. He had bandages wrapped neatly around his left shoulder, and his light brown hair that resembled a rat's nest after being invaded by the director's benign hand. He had a handsome face and a wide, friendly grin, but he held himself like a tightly coiled spring, always prepared and aware of his surroundings.

"I'll go get some OSAs then. You can introduce yourself in the meantime." Director Vance's loud voice interrupted the NCIS agents' inspection of the strange new man, jolting them back to reality. He patted the young man on the back once more before heading to his office to retrieve the necessary paperwork.

"The Official Secrets Act?" questioned McGee. "He's British too?"

Alex grinned good-naturedly, walking towards the group of agents and holding out a hand to Gibbs. "I'm Alex Rider, a friend of Ziva and Vance. Pleasure to meet you."

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><p><strong>hope you enjoyed!<strong>

**I read everything you guys comment, so any suggestions, reviews, blah blah blah would be great!**

**follow or favorite please :)**


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